


Sometimes, I wish I could disappear.

by blissey



Series: On Angels and Demons: A Study of Kurt Wagner [1]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mutant Hate, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, mature for suicidal thoughts and past self harm with a healthy dose of self-loathing, mystique is mentioned a lot, so is kitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blissey/pseuds/blissey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even teleportation can't outrun Kurt's demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes, I wish I could disappear.

Kurt Wagner sat with his head on his knee, his tail wrapped around the gutter - he was stable, but the winds around the mansion could be violent. Silent tears escaped Kurt’s eyes, warm against his fur. _Gott_ , he used to try and shave it all off. Maybe - just, maybe - if he could shave the fur off, Kurt would look normal.

As luck would have it, his skin was also a deep blue, and Kurt remembers every nick he made with the razor he tried to shave his mutanthood off with - some accidents, some not. As Illyana said, ‘each scar was a mark of victory against a demon.’ Unbeknownst to Illyana, Kurt himself was a demon and each scar was an angel he had killed.

Kurt rubbed at his cheek with his hand. At least Hank knew what Kurt’s life was like - nevermind. Hank only turned into the same kind of abomination Kurt was recently. Kurt didn’t have the pleasure of his mutant manifesting at puberty - Kurt had always been blue and awfully strange, and the teleportation came later.. In some ways, he was glad for his gifts - gifts. What a silly notion.

Kurt hated them. He hated the bruises that he had after groups of churchgoers surrounded him and pummeled him whilst he was on the ground; he hated the way other mutants reacted to his appearance - perfect, beautiful, amazing Kitty had called him a furry freak when Kurt washed up on Xavier’s step. As if Kitty would ever understand.  
The moon glanced down at Kurt, and he stared back, blinking through his tears. He was tired, just so, so tired. He was tired of fearing for his life every time he stepped foot outside the institute, he was tired of the disgust he received when others learnt of his parentage. At least Rogue wasn’t actually related to Mystique - Kurt had received the short end of the stick, again.

Most of all, Kurt Wagner was tired of being nice.

He was so kind, to everyone, constantly. Kurt was benevolent to the humans that pummeled him before he could teleport. He was kind to Emma and Erik, and he was civil with Mystique and the Hellfire Club, and he was tired. Just once - once - he’d like to be thanked and appreciated. Kurt let out a sob of a sigh, and tucked his head in between his legs. He missed Wanda - a reality that wasn’t even his, but the acceptance and love that Nocturne and her Wanda displayed to Kurt was so foreign that it was infatuating.

He knew it was bad, to be lusting after a family he could never have (a wife and daughter who loved him! Just the thought made Kurt giddy), as the Wanda here was in love with the Vision, and already had two children and a plethora of admirers - one of which being Captain America, who Kurt could never, ever compete with. Who could ever love a blue demon when a blonde angel was delivering flowers to your door?

More tears were falling, and Kurt barely even moved to wipe them away. It’s not like anyone would be able to find him up here - too busy with their meandering in blissful normality.  
Even Rogue didn’t remember. He was her brother, and she couldn’t remember his birthday? Not only that, but Illyana (his closest ‘friend’) had also forgotten. Even Emma and Rachel let it slip by, too wrapped up in dealing with Scott and Logan to spare a thought for him on his birthday.

Thirty.

Kurt didn’t think he would make it this far. It was a shock when he reached twenty, and a bigger one at twenty-five. Be it by an angry mob in Deutschland, Magneto and the Brotherhood, or by his own hands, Kurt was expecting to die. He had been expecting it since he was old enough to know the cruelty in the world, and even repenting to _Gott_ didn’t fix his hell.  
Kurt Wagner was a demon through and through, and not even acting like an angel would make people appreciate him.

Kurt reclined, the shingles on the roof digging into his back. He missed the time before he knew everything - his parents, his family in another dimension, the whispers in the street when he passed. He wished he were a child again.

The tears weren’t stopping - all Kurt wanted was for someone to care, someone to notice when he felt like an abomination. He wanted to be watched the way Gambit looked at Rogue, or the way Emma snuck glances at Scott when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“ _Vater unser im Himmel, geheiligt werde dein Name_ ,” Kurt began to pray. He didn’t really believe in _Gott_ anymore, but it was a comforting rhythm that he knew relaxed him in times of peril. “ _Dein Reich komme_ ; _dein Wille geschehe, wie im Himmel so auf Erden_.”

Kurt liked being an orphan better than having parents. He wished almost everyday that he could wash away the shame of his parentage - the literal demon Azazel and the haunting Mystique. As if just being a freak of nature with stubby three-fingered hands wasn’t enough, Kurt had to endure the constant second guessing that came with wondering if he was going to end up like the devils that had brought him into this cruel world.

Kurt was martyr at best and an anathema at worst - no amount of repenting the sins that he hadn’t committed but was forced to answer for helped the dull knowledge that even in the company of other mutants, he was a freak.

“ _Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute_.” He prayed, the moon a beacon of hope in the dull, navy sky. “ _Und vergib uns unsere Schuld, wie auch wir vergeben unsern Schuldigern_.”

He didn’t even know what he looked like without the fur, or the _dämonisch_ yellow eyes, or the pointed ears, or the _gottverdammte_ two-pronged feet and pointed tail and Kurt just wanted to be normal!

He couldn’t even try to pretend that he wasn’t excited every time a new mutant ‘cure’ was rumored - of course, he stood next to Ororo tall and proud, claiming that he loved his gifts and would never change them. A hypocrite and a demon, it seemed.

Kurt Wagner hated that he pitied himself so.

“ _Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung, sondern erlöse uns von dem Bösen_.”

He knew that he would keep being kind, if only for the others around him if not for himself. The repention could never cease - maybe if Kurt was benevolent enough, he would find himself in _Himmel_ rather than _Hölle_. Maybe in _Himmel_ Kurt wouldn’t look like a demon - he could look normal. Maybe.

“ _Denn dein ist das Reich und die Kraft_ ,” Kurt’s tears kept falling. “ _Und die Herrlichkeit in Ewigkeit_.”

A whoosh came from behind him; Illyana stepped out her portal and onto the roof. Kurt wiped his face, hoping that she would ignore his pity party. “Hey Kurt,” she said, eyes golden and hair blonde. “Are you alright?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Kurt lied, giving Illyana a lazy smile. “Just admiring the moon.”

“It is beautiful,” she agreed, “come inside soon. We’re briefing for a mission.”

She melted back into her golden portal, and Kurt let the moon witness the last of his tears. “ _Amen_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my main ho @meowcchi for beta'ing and checking that most of the German was semi-okay.
> 
> Title from Foster the People's 'Houdini.' I don't speak German; Kurt was just saying 'the Lord's Prayer' (a common Catholic chant). For anyone wondering, Kurt doesn't have a canon birthday. The most we know is that it's in November. And of course - Kurt _actually died_ (so I don't think he actually makes it to thirty in canon) and went to 'hell,' then to 'heaven.' I don't know his status right now but they cremated his 616 body. Ain't that a fuckin' kick in the face.
> 
> Kurt Wagner makes me really sad. Thanks for reading! Kudos and constructive criticism more than welcome.


End file.
